Stars and Scars
by newvagabond
Summary: Starscream/Ratchet. Tactile. Non-Sticky. As usual. Continuation of Deterioration in which we find out where those coordinates lead to and Ratchet breaks probably like fifty rules.


**A/N: Starscream/Ratchet. Tactile. Non-Sticky. As usual. **

Continuation of Deterioration because I cannot resist exploring the kind of shit that could happen with this weird ship. In which we find out where those coordinates lead to and Ratchet breaks probably like fifty rules.

**Part 1**: Deterioration

**Part 3:** Hollow Concessions

I'm really horrible at naming these fics... Then the English version of Cosmos by t.A.T.u. came on and it seemed appropriate:

_Stars we don't want to reach_

_Scars we don't want to stitch_

_Go where we haven't been_

_Fly away, time machine_

_Clouds, we will chase them out_

_Crowds, we will face them down_

_This is our secret place_

_Outer space, outer space_

* * *

Arcee charged her blaster quietly, back to a boulder. She looked to Optimus for the okay and ground her pedes into dirt when he shook his helm. Not yet. This was agonizing. They'd been waiting in silence for almost two whole micro-cycles. It was actually hilarious that the 'cons they were trailing hadn't noticed them yet.

"Give me that!" Knockout snapped, snatching a datapad from a Vehicon. "Are you sure this is the place?"

Talons ran over the pad, swiping and flicking useless codes away. His processor spun for information and he tossed the pad back with a campy sigh. "I could be racing," he complained with rolling optics. "Not hunting for scrap with a bunch of dull drones."

The Vehicons seemed to shuffle unsurely and suddenly the red Decepticon beamed. "There's an idea," Knockout vocalized, revving his engine enticingly. "Whoever finds the artifact first gets a _private_ buffing session."

Wow. Arcee smacked her faceplate and Bumblebee sounded like he was trying not to beep-laugh. Even Bulkhead was covering his mouth. But Optimus as usual was unaffected, watching and listening dutifully.

Within minutes a few Vehicons crowded around a crack in the earth, one with device in hand blipping loudly. Knockout strutted over with a shameless hip-scrape against the winning drone. "Good job, soldier," he purred, watching as the others dug into the dirt and extracted something for him. He took the shining triangular object into his servos with a grin.

Optimus nodded and the Autobots burst from their hiding spots, weapons pointed.

"Stand down," the Prime vocalized loudly.

Knockout wasn't surprised and after admiring the large 'bot's smoke stacks for all of a nano-klik, pressed a button on one of his panels. "I don't think so," he said and transformed, fishtailing as he sped away.

Arcee and Bumblebee caught each other's gaze and nodded, both transforming and racing after Knockout. Bee was able to flank him easily, getting as close as he could. Knockout reacted predictably, easing to the right away from him to protect his paintjob. It was a dumb move and he found himself with a two-wheeler transforming on his back and flipping him over. He slammed into the dirt with a groan.

The blue 'bot had her blades out now, right at Knockout's helm. He clutched the object in his servos and twitched his faceplate in interest. "Impressive paint job for a two-wheeler," he said, brazenly eyeballing Arcee's chest plating.

"Oh, please," she groaned, and proceeded to yank the artifact from his hold. She spared a couple of suspicious blinks at it before everyone's comms activated.

_"Optimus, three more Decepticon signals incoming!" _Ratchet kept close watch as always.

The Prime pivoted right on one large pede just in time to see three aerial Vehicons drop down. Not a second was wasted before weapons were unleashed upon the Autobots.

"We've got it!" Arcee called as she dodged blasts. Optimus too ran for cover, surveying the area over his plateguard.

"Ratchet, bridge us back," Optimus decided, charging his gun. They entered the ground bridge one at a time, each blasting to keep the Decepticons at bay.

Optimus was last to return, retracting his facial guard immediately and looking over his team, which thankfully was strong as always. Arcee held the gleaming object up, looking pleased with herself.

"That was easy," she commented with a smirk, lobbing it to their physician.

Ratchet gave her a fleeting glance of annoyance before turning the small artifact in his hands. The glow it gave was an interesting an array of colors that danced crystal-like across the doctor's faceplate. He felt along its sides, into the crevices of that appeared to have been carved in.

"Optimus, this is a Bedlam Prism," Ratchet finally said, disappointment apparent in his vocals.

Miko bounced on the railings above. "A Bedlam Prism? What is it? What's it do? Make rainbows of healing light? Make Decepticons turn good?"

"Hardly," Ratchet snorted, giving the object to Bumblebee who beeped excitedly. "It's a children's toy. An expensive one by the looks of it; I certainly never had one so nice."

Jack was half-way down the stairs. "Cybertronians have toys? I, wait, were you guys all little robots at some point?" he asked.

Ratchet sighed and turned back to his computer, clearly aggravated. Starscream had given them coordinates to lead them to a _toy_. They were stupid to ever trust the 'con, neutral or not. What a waste of time.

Optimus had been observing and thinking quietly. "The Decepticons were after it as well," he said, mainly for Ratchet's sake. "Which means it must have value."

Bumblebee was still playing with it, making the lights change colors and beeping when it turned yellow for him. Bulkhead blinked optics quizzically. "How do we know they aren't just really bored on the Nemesis?" he asked, and no one could tell if he was being serious.

Rafael had made it over to Bumblebee sometime in the past minute and adjusted his glasses after looking at the prism. "It's a puzzle though, right?" he guessed, smiling when Bumblebee nodded and set it down before him. "What happens when you solve it?"

Bee spread his servos like he was taking something apart. "It opens? What's inside?"

Ratchet scoffed from the computer and said, "More toys, usually. Sometimes educational data. Stories. Lessons."

Arcee seemed to find something funny and bit her mouthplate before adding, "What kind of data was in your Bedlam Prism, Ratchet? Hymns of the All-Spark?"

The medic swiveled his torso from the computer in offense. "I'm not _that _old."

"Wait, data? Like the cylinder?" Miko asked, looking at Bulkhead worriedly. No one wanted a repeat of smart-Bulkhead.

Bumblebee was beeping in high tones, pointing to the different colors of light that came from the toy which itself was almost translucent. Rafael watched and brightened.

"Oh, I see. Like a color game?"

"Simon Says?" Miko added, running down and sitting down next to Raf. As she reached out to touch the prism, it was lifted away by a large hand. "Awww."

Optimus was too serious to look even slightly apologetic, and examined the crystal-like triangle with his own two optics. "This is not a normal Bedlam Prism. Do you think you can decipher it?" he asked Ratchet, putting the object back into his medic's hand.

Ratchet ex-vented and ran a subtle scan on it. "I'll have a look tonight," he vocalized, setting the toy down and checking his chronometer with a blink. "It's time for the children to go home."

Optimus nodded to his Autobots and after some fussing, the guardians and their kids left. Ratchet knew he was being watched and gave in, looking to his leader.

"You are doubtful," the Prime guessed. Knew. He didn't even need to read Ratchet's energy field for that.

"And worried," Ratchet added, putting a hand on his helm. "It's not that I doubt your wisdom, Optimus."

To this he received a gentle smile and a hand on his shoulder. "I trust your judgment, old friend," the large 'bot said, comforting as always. "Let us prepare some energon for the others when they return. It has been a long solar cycle indeed."

Ratchet had wanted to get to work right away, but there was something really nice about sitting around and sipping energon with his team. Bumblebee was excited, telling a story in a series of beeps and tones so fast that Arcee laughed and told him to slow down. The Autobots were becoming accustomed to human language and though Bumblebee was incapable of replicating it, that didn't stop him from being talkative.

Bulkhead almost choked on fuel laughing as Bumblebee stood and acted out a part of his story, arms flailing about. "Scraplets tried to_ eat _it? Even the glass?" Bulkhead roared.

Arcee stretched her shoulders as she sipped, dorsal plating grinding. "My prism was molybdenum. And it was rounder, not like that one," she added to the conversation, pointing with her helm at the clear prism still waiting by Ratchet's computer.

The medic gave it a good look, cube of energon in servo. "It's definitely unique," he said. The shape and material of the prism indicated it was likely from city rather than Cybertronian suburbs. Possibly a city made up of aerials. He thought of a particular silver Seeker and threw the rest of the cube into his intake bitterly. "Off to recharge, all of you. Yes, Bumblebee, you too."

"Night, Ratch!" Bulkhead called.

"Sweet recharge!" Arcee called too, just to bug.

"Yes, yes, goodnight!"

Alone at last. He tapped a few keys on the computer, bringing up various different wavelength meters and diagnostic charts. Here we go. Scans, prodding with tools, evaluation of energy signatures. Hours swept by, just taking notes. Useless notes. Boring notes, which was unexpected.

Unique though it may be, it was still a toy. He would be ashamed to call himself a native of Cybertron if he couldn't figure out the pattern and open it. He grabbed the damned thing and held it up.

"Alright," he murmured, dragging a finger to the pointed tip of the object. Steel pink light gleamed in response. Hm. He took another finger down one of the lines carved into the crystal surface. Deep cobalt light sparkled now, which felt strangely warm on his faceplate. After a mere nanoklik of consideration, Ratchet brought both fingers together, blue and pink lights following. They touched, his optics watching as the colors combined. Is that it? He brought his faceplate close and in an instant the entire prism shone a deep amethyst and Ratchet was knocked back by a powerful jolt of energy.

Waving smoke away and coughing, Ratchet set the prism down just in time for his audial receptors to pick a familiar sound up. He turned to his monitor though he already knew what it was and berated himself for that.

The same coordinates as before, at the mine. Why in the Pit was Starscream still there? He hadn't detected any more Decepticon signals. Pressing mouthplate thin, Ratchet looked around. The others were in recharge and he didn't share a berth with anyone at present, so it wasn't like he would be missed. That thought caused a fleeting pang in his spark and he brushed it away, deleting the high-frequency message. He had the mine coordinates saved from last time anyway. But bridging directly there would be foolish. Ha! He was foolish for even responding to this call. Shaking his helm, he adjusted the numbers. Over one-hundred miles away should do it. Right? Right. He was crazy. Absolutely insane.

Pulling the lever before he had a chance to change his mind, Ratchet transformed and rolled out.

Several times during the drive, he slowed down and ground his tires into the dirt angrily. He almost turned back. If it had taken another ten minutes to arrive at the mine, he just might've. But he pulled up quietly, spark racing, and transformed into root mode.

It was dark and quiet. The mine still appeared to be but a mess of rocks. He was about to shine a light when he heard delicate pede-steps behind him. He turned quickly, light on Starscream who didn't even flinch.

Ratchet looked him up and down. "You don't look hurt," he commented. No leaking, minimal scratches, not even a crackling energon line.

"I didn't say I was," he replied in a playful murmur. Wings swept up straight behind his back, poised and decisive.

Ratchet put away his light and stepped back. "Why did you call me?"

The Seeker held servos behind his back, anything but innocent. "I was wondering if you liked my gift," he replied, shifting a heel.

"The toy? That piece of junk is a waste of time," Ratchet snorted.

Starscream put a hand to his chest as if his feelings were hurt. "_Piece of junk?_ I made it myself, you know," he preened now, lips turning up. "Well, not made, exactly. Modified."

Ratchet stared now. "What's in it?"

"I'll show you," Starscream said, holding out a claw.

"... I don't have it with me."

The claw clenched. "Oh," the aerial said, eyebrow twitching. He gave a little shrug. "Well. I still need your help."

Ratchet waved his servos, confused, watching as Starscream walked around him to the rubble of the mine. The message didn't say to bring the prism. And he didn't need repairs. "What's in it for me? More useless intel?" he asked, turning.

Starscream leaned on one leg, looking at the mess of rocks before him. "There's still energon in the cave," he vocalized. "Help me and I'll tell you what's in the prism."

"When I open it, I'll know what's in it. I don't need you to tell me."

"What makes you think you can open a Vos Bedlam Prism?"

Blue optics cycled wide. "It's from Vos? How did you come across it?" he asked, and immediately felt dumb when Starscream twitched wings at him. Duh. "Then... Then it must contain actual Vos files. But the database was destroyed."

Starscream gave him a level look and tapped his helm with a spindly claw. "Backups," he told him. "I could only save so much. The rest, well… Like I said, it's a modified prism."

Ratchet's processor was full of questions. "What kind of files? Just scientific?" He stopped himself. "How do I know you're not making this up?"

The Seeker raised an optical ridge. "Well now you know what's inside of it. If you don't mind, I have to keep digging through the mess you Autobots made," he spat pettily, lifting a rock and throwing it down.

Ratchet could've left. He should've left. He knew what was inside of it. Not specifically, but Vos files! Actual files from the city-state. Before all of this, before the war. The information in those files could change everything.

There was still the matter of opening the prism, but... A trade was a trade. Frag it all. Optimus' sense of good and right was definitely leaving a mark.

With an ex-vent Ratchet walked over and began moving rocks as well. He ignored the smug smirk in his peripheral vision. To his surprise, his new companion didn't say a word as they got to work. They worked together with larger chunks, and got to a point where Starscream stepped back and was able to blast through with one of his missiles.

The Decepticon looked quite proud of himself and entered the hole they'd created. The medic followed after warily, giving a final glance outside before he carefully slipped in. Starscream's steps were light, heels mincing the gravel. A curious half-scowl adorned his plate as he seemed to eerily relish the cave. A glowing bit of wall stuck out to him and he clawed at it before extracting a large and pretty shard of energon.

"The last time I was in here, I was nearly offlined," he mused, chemoreceptors taking in the burning aroma of unprocessed fuel. His tank longed for sustenance.

Ratchet almost misstepped, disturbed although he had already heard the story from Arcee. How different things would be if Megatron had actually done it.

Another look downward had him blinking. Starscream wasn't just stepping delicately to be cute. "You're limping," he observed. "Did you let the welding cool last time?"

Starscream looked down his leg passively. When you've got an injury for so long you sort of get used to it. Ratchet rolled his optics and told him to let him have a look. The Seeker yielded, leaning back against the rocky wall and bending his knee to lift pede up. Ratchet kneeled and held it gently.

"I feel like royalty," Starscream teased, though he couldn't hold back a squeak when Ratchet poked under a loose spiked plate. He smiled when he was ignored, and cradled the energon crystal like it was his very own sparkling. "I didn't realize you knew me so well."

Ratchet laughed ironically. "If you would stop getting your tailpipe kicked, I wouldn't."

Starscream flexed his ankle in response to an uncomfortable prod, and Ratchet kept himself from apologizing. "Or maybe the great Autobot medic is losing his touch."

Ratchet set his lander down, offended and suddenly very angry at himself for being here. What the frag_ was _he doing there? He ignored the memories that fired in his processor. Starscream's husky ventilations, twitching wings, the way he'd squirmed under Ratchet's precise touch.

"I'm done. I need to get back to base," he said, vocals uneasy with static.

Starscream inclined his helm curiously as he watched the doctor stand. "Wait, don't tell me: you've just now realized you're alone with an enemy," he said disdainfully. "An enemy you selfishly left hanging last time."

Ratchet's feathers rose defensively. "You offered intel and I took it! It was a trade!" he shouted, trying to convince himself more than his would-be companion. He could feel the heat to his plating already. It was either anger or desire. Or a mixture of both, which was clearly shame.

Starscream's ridges rose with a gravely laugh. "So after you fix up the Autobots, they get a nice _cable-job_, do they? No wonder they get hurt so often."

The medic almost fell over. No more of this. He turned and made for door they'd dug earlier. "I'm leaving. Good luck running from Megatron with a limp."

Even with a hurt foot, Starscream was a mech of speed. He flanked Ratchet and spun him by the shoulder. It was so fast that Ratchet's processor screamed DANGER and his cyber scalpels unsheathed in panic. He swung and stabbed, and it was Starscream's turn to panic as one of the blades scraped across his chestplate loudly and his back slammed into a wall. Earth shook and pebbles rattled against their plating.

When the dust cleared, Ratchet grunted and looked down to find his blades stuck in the mine wall around Starscream, mere inches from his frame. But the Seeker wasn't done. His spindly claws hooked into the doctor's shoulders and he scratched, energy field pulsating anger, exhaustion and to Ratchet's utter surprise, fear. But not at him. Crimson optics were bright. Deranged. He wondered just how long Starscream had been surviving on such little energon, alone and in hiding. The wildness in his gaze was unsettling.

Finally Starscream gathered the processor power to speak. "_I am no prey_," he snarled, overly defensive, clearly not in a good state of processor. He pulled his claws in a threatening scratch, barely hurting Ratchet but peeling paint just the same. The medic didn't say anything, really regretting this whole damn night, trying to pull his blades free from the rocky grip before he was gutted or something.

"Well you're doing a damn good job of getting everyone to hunt you like one!" he shouted, desperate. Starscream didn't like that and snapped his energy field tight, making Ratchet's fizzle. "What are you scheming, anyway?" the grounder shouted again.

Starscream's optics spun and he shook with a startled ventilation. The question went unasked and Ratchet finally pulled one blade out and continued, "Why give us intel? Why would a Decepticon lead us to Vos files?" Ratchet's field was charged now, on the defensive.

"You forget that I am no longer a Decepticon," the aerial growled in response.

Ratchet retracted the free blade and pointed his finger against Starscream's chest where he'd slashed, where the Decepticon symbol still was. "_You _are a_ Decepticon_," the mech said lowly, pressing the digit to the mark.

"And yet here you are, _Autobot_, " Starscream hissed brokenly, skittering his claws now for a more gentle hold on Ratchet's arms which sent a pleasurable jolt across a poorly resistant sensornet.

"I'm not touching you again," Ratchet declared, pulling his hand back and trying to hide a twitch as the jolt traveled down his frame. Starscream snatched the hand quickly, still crackling with anxiety and something more troublesome for the dutiful medic. He tried still to pull his other arm free, damn the Earth and its stubborn rocks.

"That's fine," Starscream murmured, vocalizer practically melting the words together. The aerial was gentle with the hand and pulled it to him, back to his chest where it was. The gash wasn't deep, but it was fresh and sensitive. He scraped Ratchet's hand across it and huffed in pain, letting his leg plating rattle a trifle. Without sparing another moment he guided the hand up still, over collar and to neck where the medic mournfully enjoyed the fast pump of energon through the taut cable there. Ratchet's cooling fans stuttered pitifully as he watched Starscream manipulate his hand and continue its journey upward to rest on the ridges on his cheeks.

The Seeker let his optics close at the gentle touch, and allowed only a moment of stillness before he drew the thumb into his mouth. Ratchet didn't realize his own mouth was open and his fans clicked on loudly, mortified and aroused by the sight. A smooth, sleek aerial pressed before him, energon glowing in the walls. Stressed energy fields, bursting with charge.

Ratchet's vocalizer may as well have been dead and if Starscream found this funny he was good at hiding it. He released the hand, glossa trailing over thumb as though longing for it to stay. Again he curled his fingers onto Ratchet's shoulders, though with a different kind of urgency.

"If you need me to repeat those coordinates, I would be happy to oblige," came his merciless invitation.

Ratchet's engine revved out of his control and he suddenly found the strength to evulse his stuck blade, quickly converting it into a servo. Both hands gripped Starscream by the waist and shoved him into the wall.

"Shut up before I disable your vocalizer," he threatened, field freeing itself fully and slamming Starscream. He grabbed where he remembered before, at the middle under the chestplate, where Starscream was slender. A finely forged Seeker, indeed. He wondered about his age. At least he knew he wasn't as young as Bumblebee. His processor wouldn't be able to handle that.

"Oh, but then you wouldn't get to hear me... _mmm_..." As predicted, dragging his thumb hard against the thick waist cable was enough to get a moan out of the talkative 'con. Charge flickered between them and Starscream slammed his talons to Ratchet's grill like before, yanking him closer, metal on metal making both their systems lurch.

It was almost more of a fight. Their fields tangled, trying to be stronger than the other, to engulf each other. Ratchet learned the aerial was sensitive under his jaw and Starscream learned that if he scratched the glass windows of his alt-mode, the grounder's optics shuttered fast. "Don't scratch like that," Ratchet reprimanded, vocalizer strained, HUD beeping at him. He shoved Starscream harder into the wall in retaliation, grabbing and thrusting and making the Seeker whine.

Don't scratch like that? Oh, he'd get a scratch alright.

Starscream growled, not about to lose this game, and in a swift movement that caused a jolt of pain to shoot up his pede, flipped the grounder to the wall, effectively switching their positions. He shoved hard with body and energy, licking mouthplate before closing over Ratchet's. Talons clipped down to chassis, feeling, searching the sides of the Autobot's waist.

"Where is it?" he murmured against Ratchet's defenseless mouth, vocals all static and need. He wanted every lick of the medic's energy inside him, assaulting circuits and fuses. Servo stopped over a small, smooth covering and the medic panicked, swatting it away in a scramble.

"No," he protested, guiding the hand away. He may have been out of his processor and he may have been in the throes of a damn good fragging, but he would not actually interface with a Decepticon. It was out of the question.

To his surprise, Starscream didn't press any further and kissed him again, nimble glossa dominating and sending electricity skittering up both their helms. Talons explored chassis and connecting seams again, twitching delightfully when he found some sensitive wires. Frag, that was going to do it. Starscream pinched and ground his hips forward. Yep. Ratchet's sensornet erupted and he froze as overload strained his system, searing heat almost blinding him as he became a twitching ball of pleasure in Starscream's hands.

The Seeker grinned against the gasping mouthplate, wings quivering as residual static danced over his frame, sending pleasurable flickers to every sensor. I won, his frame said. He was so busy preening in his victory that he didn't notice Ratchet coming out of his orgasmic daze and was taken completely by surprise when the 'bot lunged forward and flipped their positions yet again.

It seemed he would've broken the Seeker in half, bending him and scraping their hips together hard. Without sparing a thought he copied Starscream, bit at faceplate in an awkward guess at a kiss. Optics shuttering, the aerial took a moment to align himself and flatten his wings, ignoring the pain to his foot as he hooked a leg around Ratchet's to get a better grip. Their ventilations were both labored, no room for chatter, and the medic groaned loud through his callous, frustrated grindings. Starscream's moaning assaulted his audials and made his systems heat again dangerously.

In an act that might've been part revenge, Ratchet found a gap in plating by the thigh and didn't give a frag if he was being too harsh with what he knew was fragile, sensitive circuits. Starscream half-shrieked, legs giving out, clinging now. It wasn't even an attempt at any human speech now, loosing clear pronunciation and dipping into the techno-grating of Cybertronian. No amount of time on Earth could make Ratchet unable to recognize his native tongue, Decepticon dialect or not.

With a hard ex-vent, Ratchet heaved him up by his middle and pounded their plating together in a loud mash. The only noise in competition with that was the sound Starscream's talons made as they scraped down the Autobot's back.

Every limb and hinge and vent ached, but Ratchet ignored all warnings his systems were throwing at him. He continued to thrust and wrap fingers around wires. He gave a tug and Starscream jerked against him with a scream, optics wider than ever. "Th-That—there, yes!"

Ratchet obliged and tugged again rapidly, purposefully stretching the wires taut. Starscream couldn't move, vocalizer dying as overload tore through his systems. The only movement from him was convulsing talons trying to hold on. He didn't even appear to be ventilating and Ratchet could barely see straight as the energy transfer made his own body threaten to overload again.

Legs useless, Ratchet gave in and lowered, sliding Starscream down with him. The Decepticon would've been perfectly happy to relax there in his lap but ha, ha, _no_. The 'bot guided him off, and the still-dazed mech gave a spent little moan as he tried to sit up. Red optics were slightly crossed in a post-frag stupor, and he gingerly prodded at his faceplate, gaining a moue of annoyance when he discovered a scratch near his jaw. Likely from Ratchet's attempt at mouthing.

They sat together in relative silence, fans still at work and air thick with ozone. After a good few kliks of cooling down, Starscream rebooted his vocalizer noisily and flipped a panel open on his wrist. After consideration he snorted and closed it, then reached under his chestplate with his optics shuttered tight.

"What are you doing?" Ratchet panted, not caring anymore about the grating to his voice.

Starscream keened in pain, and finally extracted something within. His optical ridges drew up at an angle in an expression that stunned Ratchet because he could not for all his processor power decipher it. The aerial cleaned the card gently, blue energon bright in the dark mine. After staring at it for a long moment, he held it out.

"Since you seem to think I'm virus-ridden," was the vague answer, and it was clearly meant to be venomous but the medic detected a tone that made him feel guilty. He quickly discarded that feeling, though, and took the card slowly, noting the shining Decepticon symbol on its front.

"What is it?"

Starscream gave an affronted scoff. "Were you not listening before?"

"But you said the prism contained the backups." Ratchet was confused and held the card like he thought it would explode in his hands.

Again the aerial scoffed, optics rolling. "The _larger files_. The important ones," he said slowly, like he was talking to a newspark. "Like I said, I could only save so much. Anything I knew I would need immediately was directly transferred." He pointed to his chest, where the card had been hidden.

If Ratchet was confused before, now he was utterly baffled. This was Starscream's personal drive. Sure, a small extra one likely for transfers from different databases and for missions. Seekers had many uses for these drives before the war. Logs, delivery statements, contacts... And this whole time Starscream had been keeping it inside of him.

Ratchet felt wrong. His processor couldn't decide if this show of trust was good or bad. His optics remained wide, staring at the little square drive.

"I'm sure your computer will have no trouble sweeping it," Starscream said suddenly, bringing Ratchet from his thoughts.

"I..." Should he thank him? Should he be more suspicious? Starscream was right, though. Any virus such a flimsy little hard drive held would be easily quarantined by his computer. So it wasn't like it posed a threat. He tucked the drive into subspace and started to stand. "Do you still want me to fix your foot?"

Starscream wasn't even looking at him anymore, long legs drawn up to his chest.

"I'm... going to go now," Ratchet vocalized.

"Goodbye."

Sharp and quick.

Ratchet didn't know what to make of it, so he took a few slow steps backward, optics searching, and without another word left Starscream in his lonely little mine.


End file.
